What the doctor ordered

In the cafe, B said, "Everyone complains about the public health system. But my mother was in Auckland City Hospital for seven weeks, and I rate her care as 99.9% excellent."

- CHARLOTTE GRIMSHAW

Like B, I've had contact with public hospitals lately and, like him, I've been impressed by the care. A recent experience with a private clinic was starkly different. During visits to undergo laser treatment for a facial scar, I encountered, for the first time in my life, a doctor with a spectacularly bad bedside manner.

He seemed competent, but so rude I was fascinated. If he'd appeared in fiction, you'd have thought him an exaggeration. After various displays of impatience, hard sell and almost frantic cupidity, he entered the room quietly after my eyes had been covered and, without any preamble or warning, shot me in the face with his laser. Like the typical Kiwi diner who's been served an appalling meal (yeah, no, great, thanks), I butched the moment out, weeping silently under my blindfold.

He finished his work, swept out, then burst back in, elaborately expressing displeasure. He needed the room, and I should have been hustled out quicker. Payment had been extracted upfront.